A Day in the Life of Diefenbaker
by Tanba Josav
Summary: A typical day in Chicago for our intrepid Mountie, seen from the eyes of his faithful wolf.


"A Day in the Life of Diefenbaker"  
  
DISCLAIMER: All due South characters belong to Paul Haggis and Alliance Communications Corporation Production. I make no money of this and am just doing it for the love of the show.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
5:56a.m.  
  
Constable Benton Fraser, of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Jumping out of bed he glanced at his watch before performing his daily routine of two hundred star-jumps and one hundred push-ups. After finishing he stepped into his closet and - it seemed - almost instantly stepped back out again.  
  
He was now dressed in his regular Mountie uniform; polished boots, the regulation navy blue pants - with the yellow stripe, red serge jacket and all topped off with the trademark Stetson. Benton breathed in deeply and tried to ignore the car fumes that leaked in through his window. Ah yes, it was another smoggy morning in good old Chicago.  
  
8:32a.m.  
  
"Dief, Dief."  
  
Diefenbaker scrunched his eyes closed and rolled over. If he pretended that he couldn't hear his friend, and technically his master, then maybe Benton might leave him alone.  
  
"I know you're awake."  
  
Constable Benton Fraser's boot found its way under Dief's side and wiggled the wolf. "Fine, have it your way then."  
  
Benton walked away. Dief cracked open one eye and watched the human stride into the kitchen. Interesting culinary sounds ensued.  
  
Well this is more like it, thought Dief. Breakfast is served.  
  
Leaping upright the wolf sauntered into the kitchen. To find Benton rattling pots and pans about, but there was not a scrap of food in sight.  
  
"I thought that might get your attention," Benton said.  
  
Diefenbaker sat on his haunches, mortified. He'd been fooled. A mere human had taken in a wolf, the majestic pinnacle of evolution. The only small consolation to this whole sorry affair was that it was Benton Fraser that had done it. For a human he was pretty smart and except for his rather unfortunate parentage he had the makings of being a great wolf.  
  
Well two could play at this game.  
  
Whining pitifully Dief raised one paw and tilted his head to the side. 'Feed me,' the look seemed to say, 'for I am but a poor humble wolf.'  
  
Wait a minute scratch that. Dief dropped the paw and scratched behind one ear. That's not quite the impression I'm trying to make.  
  
"No time for that," Benton picked up his Stetson and pulled his overcoat on over his Mountie uniform. "We have to get to work."  
  
Dief shook his head and rolled his eyes. Good thing Turnbull usually kept a pastry or two for emergencies or a wolf would never get fed.  
  
8:37a.m.  
  
Outside the apartment stood Ray Vecchio, resplendent in his habitual Armani suit and leaning casually against his precious Buick Riviera.  
  
"You're late," the Chicago detective called up at his friend.  
  
"I know and I'm sorry, Ray," Benton replied as he reached the car and opened the door. "Dief didn't want to wake up."  
  
"Oh jeez," Ray watched the wolf jump into the backseat before getting into the car as well. "You baby that animal."  
  
"No, I don't, but I do owe him, Ray. He did save my life once."  
  
Vecchio looked into his rear-view mirror and stared at Dief. "Dumb dog," he muttered.  
  
Dief growled at the insult. Most days he liked Ray, for an American he seemed almost nice. But there was just so much a wolf could take and being called a dog, of all things, and on an empty stomach. Diefenbaker fantasised ripping the American's throat out for a few minutes before lying down and going back to sleep.  
  
9:07a.m. - 12:00p.m.  
  
The day didn't start off well. Inspector Thatcher cornered Constable Fraser in his office and berated him for being seven minutes late then she took Turnbull away with her for the morning resulting in Dief not getting any sort of breakfast at all.  
  
Dief couldn't understand the women in Fraser's life. The man seemed to run scared of all of them. Admittedly some were scarier than others were. Like the Inspector - who was not so affectionately called 'The Dragon Lady' by Vecchio. But Franny was nice she always gave Dief snacks. Okay, so she was trying to get to Fraser through his wolf but Dief didn't mind, in fact he wished that more people would try this approach.  
  
Diefenbaker sat under his master's desk and gnawed on a leg. He licked his lips and decided that as far as breakfasts go this one really sucked. If he had been back in the Canadian wilderness at least he could have hunted down a rabbit, or two. Or better yet looked forlorn and waited till a friendly Inuit caught one for him.  
  
12:23 p.m.  
  
It was a great relief that when noon came around Benton decided to have lunch with Ray. Lunchtime at the precinct was always good for a handsome wolf. Between Ray's picky culinary tastes and the Lieutenant's ability to pack enough food to feed the entire Red Sox's Dief could always guarantee something would come his way. Why Huey and Gardino were even known to occasionally throw him a small bite or two while they loudly proclaimed to all who would listen that wolves shouldn't be allowed in public buildings.  
  
So Dief was more than a little disappointed to find his lunch hour being spent in the back of Ray's car on a stakeout - and there wasn't even any steak to be found.  
  
"Jeez, what's up with your wolf, Benny?" Ray asked as he eyeballed the rear- vision mirror. The half-mad canine was pacing up and down Ray's back seat whining and licking the windows.  
  
"I have no idea, Ray," Benton replied. "Maybe he's pining? You know it reminds me of an old Inuit tale, would you like me to tell it to you?"  
  
"No!" Ray looked down at his half eaten, soggy bag of fries. He shook them up a little before turning towards Benton. "You want some of these?"  
  
"No, thank you, Ray, I've just finished some caribou jerky. It's very nutritious and besides do you know how much saturated oil is used to cook those?"  
  
"I don't care." Ray scrunched up the bag, rolled down his window and tossed the whole thing onto the street. This caused a startled yelp to issue from the backseat.  
  
"Ray!" Benton admonished.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You do realize that littering is an offense?"  
  
"Yeah, so?"  
  
"So now you'll either have to pick them back up or arrest yourself," Benton explained patiently.  
  
"I will not."  
  
"Ray."  
  
"No."  
  
"Ray."  
  
"No."  
  
"Ray!"  
  
"Oh for the love of God," Ray opened his door and scooped up the bag. Slamming the door shut he reached across to Benton opened the glove box and rammed the remains of the fries inside. "Happy now?"  
  
Benton thought for a moment. "Yes."  
  
Dief howled his despair and flopped onto the floor.  
  
"I think you should take that wolf to a vet," Ray began before the apartment door they were watching caught his eye. A small, nervous looking man poked his head out before he darted down the steps and began running away. "That's our guy!"  
  
Benton was already out of the car and halfway up the street before Ray even managed to open his door. "Hey, wait for me."  
  
4:53 p.m.  
  
The quarrel could be heard long before the Canadian Mountie and the Chicago detective was seen.  
  
"You know when I say wait for me I usually mean 'wait for me'."  
  
"I know, Ray, but he was getting away."  
  
"I don't care if he was getting away this is my town and I should be the one leading the chase."  
  
"I'll endeavor to remember that in the future."  
  
"You'd better or I might just have to arrest you."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For being too Canadian."  
  
"I don't believe that is an actual offense."  
  
"Well maybe it should be!"  
  
The bickering pair walked through the swinging doors and into the precinct proper followed by an increasing despondent wolf.  
  
"If I was leading I wouldn't have lost the guy."  
  
"I'd beg to differ on that, Ray, and I did try to pick up the trail again."  
  
Ray Vecchio slunk over to his desk and flung himself onto a nearby chair. "About that," he said. "How many times have I told you not to do that thing."  
  
"What thing?" Benton Fraiser asked as he automatically began straightening Ray's desk. Vecchio slapped Benton's hand away and messed up his desk again. "That thing," he said. "Where you sniff, lick or generally partake of some disgustingly dirty inanimate object."  
  
"It was just mud, Ray."  
  
"From the guy's shoe! It could have come from anywhere, how do you know that some animal hadn't done its business on that mud?"  
  
"I'm sure I would have noticed if that was the case." Benton replied.  
  
Ray screwed up his face. "Gross!"  
  
"It's a perfectly acceptable form of tracking," Benton said. "If it wasn't for 'tasting inanimate objects' - as you so bluntly put it - I wouldn't be here today."  
  
"Well, let that be a lesson to you," Ray replied.  
  
Benton frowned as he tried to make sense of his partner's words. Deciding it was yet another example of cultural differences he just smiled and nodded.  
  
"Hi, Benton." Elaine walked past the two men. She was carrying a cup of steaming coffee and three iced pastries. "Would you like a Danish?"  
  
"Why thank you, kindly, Elaine," Benton patted his taut stomach and smiled. "But I had some caribou jerky earlier and I couldn't eat another bite."  
  
"Oh well." She walked away with a hopeful Diefenbaker at her heels.  
  
"Thank you, too, Elaine," Ray called out after her. "But I'm full," he turned back to his friend. "Honestly what's with you and women?"  
  
Benton pulled his collar away from his throat and looked awkward. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Yeah, that's the problem," Ray muttered. "Now where were we?"  
  
"I do believe you were yelling at me, Ray."  
  
"The Yank has a point, son."  
  
Benton stiffened at the sound of his father's voice. Oh dear, he thought, not again.  
  
"I mean," his father continued. "When I was your age I was tracking criminals across the tundra and I never lost even one. I think you're slipping."  
  
Benton's father was dead, very dead in fact. But that still didn't seem to stop him from popping into Benton's life full of unnecessary anecdotes and advice at the most inconvenient of times.  
  
"Not now," Benny grumbled at his father.  
  
"What not now?" Ray asked.  
  
"I don't want to argue with you now, Ray," Benton said. He had learned the hard way that apart from Diefenbaker no one else ever saw - or heard - his father.  
  
"Fine, whatever," Ray said. "What do you want to do then?"  
  
A quick glance behind revealed that his father had gone. Sighing with relief Benton drew a thumbnail across his left eyebrow in a habitual gesture. "I was thinking we could follow the trail from the mud."  
  
"What trail?"  
  
"Well, I detected a hint of burritos along with a distinct combination of elements found only in the Lake Michigan area which should narrow our search considerably."  
  
Ray threw his hands up in despair. "Oh for the love of - why didn't you mention this before?"  
  
"Because you never asked, Ray."  
  
"Well, don't wait so long next time."  
  
Dief had crept back to his master's side during the conversation. He was now sitting at the human's feet, head turning from person to person as he read their lips. He looked to the entire world like he was refereeing a tennis match.  
  
He had managed to convince Elaine that it was in her best interests to hand over a pastry, but it had done little to fill the hole in his stomach. So his tail twitched when he read the word 'burrito' but the failure of one miraculously appearing was disappointing.  
  
Come on, he thought. What do I have to do to get fed around here? Beg?  
  
The conversation continued on around him, unhindered.  
  
This is no way to treat a loyal and faithful friend. Feed me now, dammit! Dief suddenly cringed and whined. Oh no! Did I just swear?  
  
The cold realization that he had been in America for too long sunk in. He was becoming like that loud-mouthed Yank that Benton called his friend.  
  
I must wash my mouth out. With his tail between his legs Dief made a dash for the men's room.  
  
Vecchio watched the wolf leave. "I swear, Benny, that dog gets weirder every day."  
  
"Wolf, Ray," Benton corrected him.  
  
"Dog. Wolf, whatever. You're both Canadian and you're both weird."  
  
"Well, as much as I would love to correct you on that, shouldn't we follow this new lead?"  
  
Vecchio looked at his watch. "Ah, gee, Benny, I can't."  
  
"Do you have a prior engagement?" Benton stood up, automatically settling his Stetson over his perfect hair.  
  
Vecchio briefly thought of lying about spending the night at home eating a meal with his family and listening to them bitch about their relationships. "Nah, not really."  
  
"Then shouldn't we 'get our man', as you are so fond of saying?"  
  
Ray tapped his watch. "No can do, shifts over." He kicked his chair under the desk and shrugged on his jacket. "New Vecchio policy, 'no overtime, no work'."  
  
"A Police Officer is never off-duty, Ray." Benton pointed out.  
  
"Well this one is! Beside we can pick him up tomorrow, he always stays at his mother's."  
  
"And you told me off for not divulging all the pertinent information." Benton said.  
  
"What can I say, Benny, local knowledge wins out over gross tracking skills any day."  
  
Fraser followed Ray along the corridor towards the front of the precinct. "Surely I have lived here long enough to be considered a local, Ray?"  
  
Ray laughed. "Have you ever spat on the sidewalk?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Swore? Stole anything?"  
  
"Of course not, Ray."  
  
"Mugged an old lady for her pension check?"  
  
"Never!"  
  
"Then you ain't a local, Benny."  
  
The pair disappeared outside.  
  
5:36 p.m.  
  
Fraser declined Ray's offer for a ride home, stating he'd rather walk. Ray replied that this was just one more example of why Benny would never be confused with a local and drove away.  
  
The air was turning crisp as the night fell. Yet one more indication that the year was drawing to a close. Not that Fraser needed any signs to tell him that winter was approaching. Too many years on the tundra had fine- tuned his senses to the first sign of snow. It was times like this that he missed his native homeland, when the weather started to take a turn for the worst was when he missed the icy desolation the most. Still he had friends here he never dreamed of having back home and a place in the world where he knew he was making a difference. Sometimes small sacrifices had to be made. He understood this and so did Diefenbaker.  
  
Benton looked around him. Where was Diefenbaker?  
  
Dief was casually trailing his master as they walked home. It didn't pay to follow too closely to his heels that looked too much like blind obedience. No, Benton liked a slow walk home, chatting to incredulous natives who still didn't understand why this mad Canadian insisted on sharing his life with them. Meanwhile it gave Dief more than enough time to check his pee- mail.  
  
It would be hard to explain the importance of pee-mail to a human and Dief constantly failed to understand their fascination with those plastic devices they held to their ears all the time. But it would be enough to know that this nightly excursion was essential to any self-respecting canine.  
  
Dief's favorite haunt was a telegraph pole on Ninth Street. He walked casually up to it and started sniffing.  
  
Hmm, there was a good Dumpster outside that new Chinese Takeaway store on 5th lots of table scraps and even some rats if that was to your liking.  
  
Mitsi was in season, again. What a bitch!  
  
Speaking of bitches, Fang's had six fine puppies. Mental note: try and get him a bone as congratulations.  
  
Dandelion Maxamillian III was trying his luck with that poodle who belonged to that fat lady down town, good luck to him! That particular bitch was so stuck up she thinks her droppings don't stink.  
  
Say, what's this? Dief sniffed deeply at a particular spot. Canadian dogs are cats?! They're too polite to bite postmen?! Why you -!  
  
Dief cocked a leg and sprayed a rude comment onto the pole before turning around and kicking dirt up onto it to show his contempt.  
  
"Dief?"  
  
Sensing more than hearing Fraser's faint call Dief sniffed once more at the pole before trotting away.  
  
"Ah, there you are." Benton looked down at his constant companion. "Hungry?"  
  
Dief rolled his eyes at such a stupid question and barked affirmative, once.  
  
"Good because just between you and me that jerky wasn't all that filling. But I have some left over and with a few vegetables I'm sure I would whip up a satisfying stew."  
  
Dief barked again and wagged his tail.  
  
"Let's go home, then."  
  
8:10 p.m.  
  
The food was eaten, the dishes washed and now Diefenbaker was lying on the floor at his master's bedside. He listened as Benton moved about the room hanging up his clothes and blowing out a few candles - not that he needed candles the electricity worked fine it was just that sometimes his yearnings for a certain cabin in the woods made him shun the comforts of city living.  
  
His stomach now satisfyingly full Dief sighed and rolled over. He didn't regret following Benton to this place. A lot of the time he enjoyed the city with its many smells and fast food joints. So they had to chase down a lot more criminals than he liked and they were shot at a lot more down here and the noise could be deafening even for a deaf wolf. But the company was good and the bitches in Chicago made up for a lot. Americans really were easy! Just show them one lousy bone and they were yours, you didn't even have to produce a freshly killed caribou to impress.  
  
The bed creaked a little as Benton lay down on the thin mattress. It was finally night and all was right in Dief's world.  
  
"Good night, Diefenbaker."  
  
Dief's tail thumped twice on the bare wooden floor and silence crept through the apartment.  
  
Several minutes passed and then there was a faint whistling sound like air escaping from a balloon.  
  
Benton Fraser waved a hand in front of his face. "Oh, Dief!" 


End file.
